


Behind the Camera

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [29]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bullshitting of a movie star's life, Celebrity!Derek, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek never could have imagined that a sprained knee would lead to the best thing in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah obviously neither I nor impalagirl are movie stars, so we pretty much bullshitted the whole career. :')

Ever since he got kicked out of student housing in his junior year of college, Stiles has taken the subway at eight twenty-seven each morning. He's in grad school now but getting up early enough to grab a coffee beforehand hasn't gotten any easier, which is why he's fairly confident that he's hallucinating right now. He blinks and rubs his eyes and blinks again, but no, the image is still there. Either he's actually fallen asleep, something that has never happened before, or this is real. Derek Hale is standing right in front of his seat.

He's even more beautiful in real life than he is in his movies, and if Stiles hadn't read that particularly cringe-worthy post about him on Tumblr last week, he'd be falling all over himself to talk to him right now. But while Stiles still thinks that Hale is one of the greatest actors to grace their screens in well over a decade, Stiles doesn't have all that much respect for him right now. Okay, that's actually a lie, but he's still not prepared to make a fool of himself just to get Hale to look at him.

They've been riding for a good few minutes now and while Stiles hasn't taken his eyes off of Hale, Hale hasn't looked his way once. Hale hasn't actually looked anywhere except at the floor. He seems ridiculously uncomfortable, holding onto the bar over their heads with both his knees and his elbow locked in an attempt to brace against the swaying of the carriage, and it takes Stiles too long to realise that he's probably in pain. He read somewhere that Hale fell doing a stunt during filming on his last movie and dislocated his knee. That was some months ago now, and Stiles is well-known by all of the morning crowd for hogging two seats, but the carriage is packed and there's nowhere else for Hale to sit. The guy might be an asshole, but Stiles isn't. Most of the time.

He drags his laptop case and backpack off the seat beside him and pushes the backpack beneath his own, and then clears his throat. "Uhh, excuse me," he says. "Do you want to sit down?"

Derek jerks a bit, hissing as the movement jerked his still-tender knee. "What?"

"Would you like to sit down?" Stiles repeats, this time a little tersely as he indicates the laptop case in his lap. "If you'd rather stand I can absolutely put my super heavy bag back on the only free seat in the carriage, but you look uncomfortable."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Derek says, a bit taken aback. No one ever gives up a seat, even if they were only using it for their bags. He goes to sit down, only to be thrown into the seat by the carriage wobbling violently. " _Fuck,_ " he hisses, grabbing at his knee. 

Stiles opted to ignore Hale the moment that he sat down, but he just can't help himself. "Are you okay?"

"Pulled something a while back," Derek grunts, digging his fingers into the underside of his knee to give the skin a rough massage. "Been taking a while to heal."

"That sucks," Stiles comments. "But you could probably do with being a little gentler." He reaches out to grab Hale's wrist but hesitates once he remembers who he would be touching. "May I?"

Derek eyes the stranger warily. "I don't know you," he says, voice sharper than he intended. "Got a policy about strangers touching me."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I'm not trying to cop a feel," he says. "I'm getting my MA in physical therapy."

"Doesn't help with you being a stranger," Derek points out.

Stiles shrugs, feeling like an idiot. "Fine," he says lightly. "Be in pain."

Derek sighs; he knows he's being rude. "Derek," he says, holding out a hand.

"Stiles," Stiles returns, shaking Derek's hand.

"So, physical therapy?" Derek asks, settling back onto his seat and absently rubbing his knee.

"I played lacrosse in high school but I sucked," Stiles offers. "Wound up warming the bench for all of the guys who got injured during play. Figured I'd learn to do something to help them."

"Huh. You in grad school?" The guy looks young, definitely college age. 

"Yep." Stiles pops the P. "Which means that I've been doing this for a good few years now." He glanced pointedly at Derek's knee. "Will you let me try?"

Derek open his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the announcement of his stop. Making a split-second decision, he digs a pen and scrap of paper out of his pocket, scrawling out a username. "Kik," he says, thrusting the paper at Stiles. "Maybe I'll let you practice on me."

Stiles stares at the piece of paper for a long moment, and when he looks up again Derek is already halfway off the train. "Hey, uh, thanks," he stammers, but it's too quiet for anyone but the old lady who has just taken Derek's vacant seat to hear him. 

* * *

Derek doesn't hear from Stiles for the rest of the day-- Derek himself is stuck in the recording studio, working on his voice acting for an episode of some television show or other. Something from Cartoon Network, he thought. In fact, it isn't until Derek's locking his apartment door behind him that his phone chimes, informing him of a contact request, along with a greeting.

**stiles24: hey derek it's stiles from the subway, thought i'd say hi :)**

**hale-oser: Hello. Don't judge my username; sisters forced it on me.**

**stiles24: mine's just as bad, no big. how's that knee?**

**hale-oser: Still tender, but not as bad. Managed to get an Icy Hot patch on it at work.**

**stiles24: still think i could've helped you :) what did you do to it, anyway?**

Derek hesitates before lying, **hale-oser: pulled it playing football with the guys.**

**stiles24: seems legit. my buddy scott broke his leg playing lacrosse once, it wasn't pretty**

**hale-oser: What I can't understand is why it won't fucking heal. Never had a pulled tendon take so long to heal before.**

**stiles24: well, have you stopped playing football?**

**hale-oser: Yes. Soon as my knee was injured.** That's not a lie; he hasn't done any stunts himself since he wrenched his knee. He still acts, but they got most of his scenes done before the accident. 

**stiles24: well, depending on how bad the injury was, it might have been advisable for you to stay off your feet altogether for a few days. could you take a week or so off work, take it easy?**

**hale-oser: Possibly. Boss doesn't have me doing anything terribly important.**

**stiles24: then try it. if it's still bad after a week i'd be happy to take a look at it myself.. :)**

**hale-oser: Missed your chance for a wink there. ;)**

**stiles24: well i wasn't sure it would be appropriate... i'm trying to convince you that i am a professional and not at all a creepy stranger, remember?**

**hale-oser: Honestly, you're the first person to do that. Most people try to flirt shamelessly.**

**stiles24: bitch please, you're not that attractive**

Derek laughs outright at that. **hale-oser: Apparently most of humankind would like to disagree with you over that.**

**stiles24: arrogant much? and here was me starting to like you**

**hale-oser: Well, I certainly wouldn't want to lose your good opinion, now would i?**

**stiles24: not if you know what's good for you ;)**

* * *

Derek takes Stiles's advice, staying off his feet as much as possible, and it certainly helps-- but that doesn't mean he stops talking to Stiles in the meantime. They chat regularly each day, and when Derek sees the other man on the subway again, he doesn't hesitate to make his way over, clearing his throat. "Is it really necessary to take up two seats?"

Stiles looks up, and smiles. "You have no idea how heavy these bags are," he says, even as he shifts one onto this lap and drops the other to the floor. "It's good to see you again."

Derek settles into the newly-opened seat. "Same to you," he says with a nod. "I remember how heavy a book bag can get over a semester."

Stiles nods. "Where did you go to school?" he asks.

"Berkeley," Derek answers. "You?"

"My mom went to Berkeley," Stiles says with a soft smile. "I'm at NYU."

"I thought about going to NYU," Derek says thoughtfully. "Is it good?"

"I like it," Stiles answers. "How was Berkeley? Did you go there for football?"

"Basketball, actually," Derek corrects. "But none of my friends particularly care for it now."

"So you gave it up?" Stiles asks curiously.

Derek shrugs. "I play when I can, but that's not often. And not as fun with strangers."

"So what do you do now?"

Derek blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: "Accounting."

Stiles can't help but laugh. "Seriously?"

Derek's face heats. "Don't knock it," he says weakly. 

"Oh yeah," Stiles snorts, still laughing. "I bet accounting is great fun."

Derek's flush deepens and he clears his throat awkwardly. "So if your mom went to Berkeley, are you from Cali?"

"Uh-huh," Stiles answers. "Little town called Beacon Hills. It's super precious, if remarkably claustrophobic."

"I used to live in Beacon Hills," Derek says thoughtfully. "Moved when I was twelve, though; Dad got transferred to Los Angeles for his business."

"Cool!" Stiles cries, beaming. "I might know you, then. My dad's the sheriff so I know pretty much everyone. What did you say your surname was?"

Derek hesitates a moment-- he really doesn't want to lose this person who treats him normally, but at the same time he doesn't want to lie. "Hale," he admits after a moment, then holds his breath.

Stiles pretends to think about it. "I think I remember some Hales," he says thoughtfully. "Did you used to live out in the preserve?"

"Yeah, we did," Derek says, trying to hide his relief. 

Stiles smiles. "I remember you leaving, but not much else. The house is still there, though."

Derek nods. "Laura's got this idea of moving out there, and my family... We're clingy."

"So you'd go back with them?" Stiles asks. "How will your, uhh, accounting firm feel about that?"

"I don't think so," Derek answers. "I like my job too much. I get to travel, and I don't want to settle down. Not right now, anyway."

Stiles nods slowly. "So how did your family take that?"

Derek shrugs. "I've got like, five siblings. They won't be lacking for grandkids and nieces and nephews while I'm traveling and working."

Stiles nods. "Seems legit." The train begins to slow, and a glance at the display tells him that they're approaching Derek's stop. "Will I have to wait until the next time our journeys coincide to see you again?" he asks, smiling.

Derek tilts his head, thinking quickly. "Not if you want to meet me for dinner tonight," he suggests. 

Stiles grins. "I'd love to."

* * *

The place Derek picks for their date - because it _is_ a date, Stiles is mostly certain - is so off-the-grid it's almost invisible. Stiles can't say he's surprised, but the cab driver misses the turning twice before he finally notices the opening, just big enough to allow a single car through, and then the building itself, set pretty far back, looks more like an abandoned hovel then a restaurant. But Stiles gives Derek the benefit of the doubt and approaches the front entrance, half-expecting to be ambushed and murdered, and when he pushes the door open he's pleasantly surprised to find a quaint, nicely-decorated room filled with candlelight and soft, tinkly music. Most of the tables seat two people, and about half of them are filled with couples and one or two small families. Stiles thinks he spies four celebrities who aren't Derek before he quickly looks away, his ears pink.

"Can I help you, sir?"

A waiter suddenly appears at Stiles' left elbow and he jumps. "Uhh, yeah. Table for Stilinski?" Derek had insisted on making the reservation in Stiles' name, something else that had met Stiles' expectations.

"Right this way, sir."

The waiter leads Stiles over to a table that hadn't been visible from the doorway and there Derek is, looking stunning in a maroon sweater vest and smart slacks, thick-rimmed glasses framing his eyes. Stiles' breath catches in his throat for a moment, but when the waiter pulls his chair out for him he manages to stumble into it. They're left alone once Stiles has been provided with a menu, and only then does Stiles find his voice. "So," he says, faux-casual. "I spent a good portion of the way over here agonising over whether or not this was a date. I'm guessing that this--" He gestures to their surroundings, and to the candle burning on the table between them. "--answers my question."

Derek shrugs. "It's a nice place," he defends himself. "Doesn't necessarily make it a date. Unless you want it to be?"

"Oh no," Stiles laughs, shielding himself with the menu. "I asked you first."

Derek grins. "Let's see how this goes, then decide?" he suggests. 

"Deal," Stiles agrees, grinning back.

* * *

The date goes well-- _very_ well. They end up stumbling into Stiles's apartment, clothes flying every direction as they make their way towards Stiles's bedroom. The sex is fast and delicious, leaving both of them satisfied. Afterwards, Derek stretches out over Stiles's bed, groaning. "That was good."

Stiles snorts. "Amazing," he says. "That was amazing." He settles back onto his bed with a yawn and looks at Derek. He's beautiful like this, relaxed for the first time since they met, and Stiles kind of never wants to let him go. But he knows better than to expect Derek stick around for very long after this. Casual sex is probably all he wanted. Still, Stiles can't quite help himself. "Stay tonight?"

"Can't," Derek answers, almost apologetically. "Have to be up early tomorrow."

"I can get you up early," Stiles says, and even as the words leave his mouth he regrets them. "There are these things called phones, and they have alarms on them."

Derek chuckles. "My sister's coming to pick me up; it's our monthly family day, since her and I are the only ones out here in New York."

Stiles nods, looks away. "All right."

Derek rolls off the bed, going to hunt down his clothes. "This was fun; I wouldn't mind doing it again."

Stiles almost breaks his neck he looks up so fast. "I don't want to just be some booty call," he warns, and pulls a face. "I can't believe I just said that."

Derek tilts his head. "Why not?"

"Well who says 'booty call' anymore, really?"

Derek grins. "Apparently you do," he teases. "But it's a valid concern. I mean, I'm not really ou-- _Shit._ " Derek had been so caught up in Stiles that he hadn't taken any measures to protect either of them. Fuck, Laura and Braeden would kill him if any pictures had been taken. 

"What?" Stiles asks, frowning. "What is it?"

"I'm not out to anyone but Laura," Derek says, frantically pulling on his clothes and muttering to himself about damage control. "I'll text you or something, but I have to go." With that, he all but sprints out of the apartment, phone in hand as he calls for a taxi.

* * *

Stiles doesn't hear from Derek for almost a week, and he spends the entire time berating himself. For a second there he'd actually thought that this could have a happy ending; that Derek was at least willing to give this a shot. But the way Derek had run out of his apartment, seconds after what Stiles knew to be the reality of the situation had come crashing down on him, told Stiles everything he needed to know. Or so he thought.

He's on the phone when the message comes through, and when he pulls the device away from his ear to check the sender, he almost drops it. Leaving Scott to ramble on unheard, Stiles opens the message.

**hale-oser: Hey, sorry for bolting and not messaging; Laura's had me on lockdown all week for various reasons. Haven't even had time to shake after pissing, for Christ's sake.**

Stiles takes a couple minutes to reply, but Scott talks on, oblivious.

**stiles24: it's fine. I didn't expect to hear from you at all, honestly**

**hale-oser: Well, I'm back now. Had a crisis at work, but luckily nothing actually came of it, though we were all on high alert. Hope your week was a bit less stressful.**

**stiles24: thankfully not. how are you?**

**hale-oser: Better now that everything's calmed down. Planning to faceplant into my bed and pass out for the next day, but figured I should let you know that work and my sister have finally let me go. You?**

**stiles24: I'm ok.**

**hale-oser: ... Okay. I'm sorry, again, for leaving the way I did. I'm gonna go now, but I'll wait to hear from you.**

Stiles sighs and returns the phone to his ear. "Scott," he says, interrupting his friend mid-sentence. "I have a problem."

”What is it?"

"Well, I had sex with Derek Hale last week."

Scott blinks. "Derek Hale? As in 'the hottest douche to walk the Earth' Derek Hale?"

"Yeah, that Hale." Stiles blinks. He'd almost forgotten about that post.

"You're not shitting me?"

"I'm not shitting you," Stiles says. "We had sex. Hot, sweaty sex. A week ago."

Scott makes a face. "No details, please. How did you even _meet_ him?"

"He was on the subway!"

"In New York? I thought he was filming in like, Minnesota."

“No, he busted his knee on set, remember?" Stiles says. "I don't know what he's doing here, but I'm definitely not complaining. Or, I wasn't. The fact that I had sex with him isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"He kind of freaked out and ditched me straight after."

"Ah." Scott’s quiet for a moment. "Did he say anything? Like, I don't know, maybe about him not being out or something?"

"Shut up with your wonderful insight," Stiles snaps. "It's not like he explained that."

"Does he know you know who he is?" Scott pushes. "I mean, I haven't seen anything saying he got caught with you, or anything about him being bi. Mostly just him and women, honestly."

"Okay, okay!" Stiles cries. "I see your point. But what do I do?"

"Well, has he contacted you?"

"Yes."

"And...?"

"He just said that he's been busy and that he'll wait to hear from me, but he didn't give any indication that he actually wants to see me again. And I don't know if I want to see him. He's an asshole, remember?" That's weak, and Stiles knows it. Derek had pretty much won him over that night at dinner. 

"Well, him saying he'll wait to hear from you says he knows what he did was shitty," Scott muses. "He's leaving the ball in your court."

"But what do I do with it?" Stiles whines. 

Scott sighs, making the speaker crackle. "Do you want to see him again?"

"I think so," Stiles says. "He doesn't seem like as much of a jerk as we thought he was. But I don't want to be a dirty little secret either."

"Then tell him that," Scott says simply. "But... Honestly, if you want a relationship with him, you'll have to let him know that you know who he is."

"I know," Stiles sighs. "But I don't know if that is what I want yet."

"Then just tell him you don't want to be a booty call," Scott reiterates. "If he's a good guy, he'll understand. If not, then you don't need him anyway. No matter how good the sex might be."

Stiles sighs. "Why are you always right?"

"Because I have hidden wisdom," Scott says sagely. "Now go talk to lover-boy."

"I'll call you later," Stiles promises, and hangs up. Ten minutes later, he manages to send a message to Derek.

**stiles24: hey. sorry about sounding so off with you before, i just felt kind of... used, i guess? but that was stupid. you don't owe me anything. so, i'm sorry. if you want to talk, you know where i am.**

Derek groans when he gets the message; he hadn't meant to make Stiles feel guilty. **hale-oser: No, I understand. It was shitty of me to leave right after with no explanation; you don't have anything to apologize for.**

**stiles24: why don't we agree that we were both stupid and start again?**

**hale-oser: Sounds like a good idea to me.**

**stiles24: :) so before you left that night, were you saying that you weren't out?**

**hale-oser: Yeah. My family and a couple of friends know, but... Well, I work in a place that isn't very friendly towards non-heterosexuals.**

_Yeah, no shit,_ Stiles thinks.

**stiles24: i get that. i'm not going to be that person and demand that you tell anyone about us. there isn't even anything to tell yet. but... i think i'd like to find out if there could be.**

Derek hesitates for several minutes before he replies. **hale-oser: I'd like that too.**

Stiles smiles at that. **stiles24: great :)**

* * *

It’s surprisingly easy to settle back into their previous rhythm, and only a week after they start talking again, they decide to meet up for lunch before hanging out at Derek's apartment. They meet at a little out-of-the-way pizza place, and they manage to get their orders placed and pizzas delivered before Derek gets recognized.

"Sorry, just-- my friend doesn't believe that you're this good-looking, can I take a picture with you?" The girl looks nervous, and Derek swallows his bite of pizza before offering her a smile, praying that Stiles doesn't catch on. 

"Sure," he says, patting the chair next to him.

Stiles can hardly believe that this is actually happening, but he takes the phone the girl offers him and snaps a picture of them without a word.

"Th-- thanks," the girl stammers when Stiles hands the phone back, but she's looking at Derek. "And, just so you know, I... I think you're great."

Stiles manages to hold his laughter in until she's scarpered back to her own table. "Oh my god, did that really just happen?"

Derek's face instantly reddens. "Shut up," he mumbles, waiting for the inevitable conclusion and freak out.

"No, man, seriously," Stiles says, still grinning as he leans forward. "I mean, you're hotter than the sun, so it's not like I can blame her, but you're not the kind of person that screams 'Hey there total strangers, feel free to approach me with wildly inappropriate requests!'. You have resting bitchface; it's kind of scary."

"I do not!" Derek protests, but he can't help but laugh; maybe his friend is really stupid, but Derek likes him anyway.

* * *

"Hey, little brother," Laura drawls into the phone when Derek calls her later that night. "What have you done this time?"

"Maybe made friends with the most oblivious person alive," Derek sighs.

"Stiles?" Laura guesses. "What happened?"

"I got recognized while we were having lunch," Derek explains. "He said it was because I was 'too hot for this earth' or something."

Laura hums thoughtfully. "Are you sure he doesn't know who you are?"

"He's never given any sign, but he's... not usually this dumb."

"Maybe it isn't stupidity," Laura offers. "If he really does think you're normal, then what other explanation could there be for some girl asking you for a photo? Unless she actually said, 'Oh my god, you were so good in your latest movie, please allow me to worship you'."

Derek thinks back over the encounter. "She didn't say anything that would give it away," he admits. 

"Then maybe you need to give him the benefit of the doubt," Laura suggests. "And maybe you need to stop calling him your _friend_. You like the guy, don't you?"

"I--yes."

"Then do something about it," Laura urges. "I know what Braeden says, but people are a lot kinder to non-straight celebrities these days. It's not as big of a gamble as she's leading you to believe, _especially_ if he has no idea who you are."

"We already 'did something about it', remember?" Derek says dryly. "And I know Braeden means well, but... Well, it's not an issue for now. If it becomes an issue, then I'll come out. But right now there's no real reason for me to be out."

"Exactly," Laura says. "So cool your heels and focus on getting to know Stiles. And then bring him to meet me."

"Oh _God no_ ," Derek says, aghast. "You will either kill each other or conspire against me. _No._ "

"You can't keep him from me forever, Derek," Laura says mildly. "Especially not if you think he might turn out to be worth _coming out_ over."

"Oh my god, not everything I say has a deeper meaning," Derek blurts, exasperated. 

"If you say so," Laura says archly.

* * *

Stiles and Derek keep hanging out whenever they can, and Stiles still doesn't tell Derek that he knows who he is. Derek doesn't 'fess up to Stiles either, though, so Stiles figures they're on more or less equal footing. They're trying to take things slow, so they haven't so much as kissed since the night they had sex, but Stiles is optimistic. Despite what tumblr might say about Derek Hale, the Derek that Stiles knows is sweet and caring, if a little grumpy, and Stiles likes him a lot.

Which is why, when Derek takes over an hour to return from the ice cream run Stiles sent him on after they'd shared a meal at Stiles' apartment, he's more concerned than perturbed. It could be that Derek has been recognised again and accosted by an over-enthusiastic fan, but it could be that something else has happened, too. Stiles gives him another twenty minutes before grabbing his coat and keys and heading for the door. The grocery store he directed Derek to is only a ten minute drive away; he can't have gone far.

Stiles doesn't get very far himself. Just as he's leaving the apartment building, he spots Derek getting out of his car across the street. Stiles is grinning as he heads over to him. "What time do you call this?" he asks, laughing. "I thought you'd got lost."

"I didn't," Derek retorts, grimacing and handing over the bag of ice cream. "I slipped on some plastic or some shit at the store, twisted my knee again."

Stiles' eyes widen, and he glances nervously toward the front of his building. There's an elevator to take them up to Stiles' floor, but there are a few steps up to the main entrance. "Can you manage the stairs?"

Derek shoots him a dry look. "If it means I get ice on this quicker."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Okay, smart ass," he snarks. "Get your tush up to the apartment and I'll see what I can do."

Derek sticks his tongue out at Stiles-- not very mature, but he thinks he'll be forgiven for it as he hobbles over to and up the stairs, heading for the elevator and hoping no one recognizes him. 

"Did anyone see you fall?" Stiles asks lightly when they get into the apartment. "'Cause I'd love to see pictures of that."

Derek glares. "Yes," he admits grudgingly. "No one I knew, though, and I didn't see any phones or cameras."

"Boring," Stiles sighs. "Go sit down and I'll get some ice. Will you let me take a look at it?"

"Considering you are _definitely_ not a stranger anymore, yes," Derek answers with a cheeky grin. 

Stiles rolls his eyes as he hands Derek an ice pack. "Stretch out on the sofa. And take off your pants."

"Seducing the injured man?" Derek teases, raising an eyebrow. "For shame, Stiles."

" _Fixing_ the injured man," Stiles corrects, exasperated. "Just do it."

Derek grins and complies. "So, you're sure you know what you're doing? That talk about becoming a physical therapist wasn't just talk?"

"Bitch, please," Stiles huffs as he kneels down beside the sofa and takes Derek's leg in his hands. "I've done this plenty of times. Does it hurt if I do this?"

" _Yes!_ " Derek yelps.

"Oops." Stiles eases up and tries something different. "Sorry. How's that?"

"Better," Derek says thoughtfully. "Little twingy. So how'd you get into physical therapy?"

"I actually started by taking a few massage classes," Stiles answers, frowning as he concentrates on manipulating Derek's leg. "My friends kept getting beat up on the lacrosse field and I knew at least two of them well enough to get up close and personal with them, so I figured I'd learn to do something that might help. My best friend's mom is a nurse, and when she found out she suggested I look into making a career out of it."

Derek concentrates on breathing while he listens to Stiles talk. "Best friend?" he prompts. 

Stiles allows himself a smile. "Scott," he says. "Scott McCall. He's more like a brother, actually."

Derek frowns; the name sounds familiar... "I think my dad beat up a Rafael McCall; was that Scott's dad?"

Stiles snorts. "I sincerely hope so," he says. "Do you know why?"

"I was pretty young when it happened; you and Scott would have been even younger. But I think I remember him saying something about catching McCall hitting someone; probably abuse, if Dad lost it enough to go after him in public. Never got him to tell me who, though. But he said that he passed it off to the deputy who arrested them both as a drunken brawl or something."

Stiles sighs. "Sounds like Scott's dad," he confides. "The guy's a real asshole. He's not in the picture so much anymore, though."

"Good," Derek says, nodding-- then sucks in a breath when Stiles digs his fingers in a little too deep. "Fuck, not so hard!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, but some of this is going to hurt. If I do stuff to it that isn't remotely painful then I'm not actually dealing with the injury." Stiles does gentle his hands, though. "So what else do you remember of Beacon Hills, besides your dad's brushes with the law?"

"I remember Mrs. Levin. Fucking hated her in fifth grade."

"Oh God," Stiles laughs. "She was the devil."

"She absolutely was; did she die yet? Half of us thought she was a Harpy straight from Hades."

"You know what? I'm not sure," Stiles answers. "I'll ask my dad next time I talk to him."

"What does your dad do?"

"He's the sheriff," Stiles says.

"Oh yeah, you said," Derek recalls, impressed. "Bet that was hell during your high school years."

"I can't say that it was," Stiles says mildly. "I was already a loser without people taking my dad's job into consideration, and we were always really close so yeah, I got into some shit, but my dad always got me out of it."

"Sounds nice," Derek concedes. "I was always the black sheep of the family."

"How so?" Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs, grimacing when Stiles's ministrations pull on his muscles. "I didn't follow the rest of my family; they always went into business or started families of their own, and I... I was always a bit more a dreamer, I guess." Remembering his 'job,' he hastens to add, "Not like they ever came true."

Stiles sighs. "Your family didn't support you?" he asks.

Derek shrugs. "They thought it was nice, but that it wasn't something that would actually work out."

"And now?" Stiles asks lightly, staring at his hands.

"They're glad I've got a job in this economy."

Stiles doesn't know what he was expecting, but he shouldn't be surprised. "Fair," he says, sitting back on his heels. "Okay. How does that feel?"

Derek gingerly flexes his leg, making a surprised noise. "Much better; thanks."

Stiles smirks. "You should trust me more often," he says.

"I really should," Derek agrees, offering Stiles a smile.

* * *

Stiles makes another frantic call to Scott after Derek leaves and spends an hour ranting about how sweet and lovely and _amazing_ Derek is, and how tragic it is that their whole relationship is basically built on lies, before he realises that Scott put him on speakerphone and all of their friends heard every word. After that, it takes about a week before the gang's curiosity and impatience reaches boiling point, and Stiles is left with the choice of letting them meet Derek on his own terms or having them accost him in the middle of the street - which is no choice at all, really. Fast forward a couple of days and everyone who could get time off work at such short notice is in New York and crowded around a table in a quaint little bistro that is, as usual, populated only by people with the most excellent of SatNavs.

"Please remember that he doesn't think I have any idea who he is," Stiles begs, not even remotely ashamed of how desperate he sounds. Scott, Lydia, Erica and Danny look back at him, all but Lydia the perfect picture of innocence. It's the total opposite of comforting. " _Please_ ," Stiles whines. "I know honesty is the best policy in a relationship, and I _will_ tell him, but I don't want him to find out from my friends who he's never met before."

"We won't lie to him," Lydia says haughtily. "We won't pretend that _we_ don't know who he is."

"That's fine!" Stiles insists. "As long as you don't blurt out, 'Hey, you're a famous movie star and Stiles has known the whole time!' as soon as you see him." Scott clears his throat then and Stiles whips around to see Derek himself making his way over to their table.

Derek raises an eyebrow as he approaches the table, taking in the expressions of Stiles's friends. "I feel nervous," he decides. "You haven't been planning my murder, have you?"

Stiles grins. "Only in a loving way," he says. "Sit down; we're just talking about what to order."

Derek casts Stiles a doubtful look, but complies. "So, since this seems to have been your idea," he starts, glancing at Stiles's friends, "you've got me at a disadvantage; you know who I am, but I don't know who you are."

"Oh, we know all about you," Lydia agrees, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reaches out to shake Derek's hand. "I'm Lydia. This is Scott, Danny and Erica."

Derek shakes each of their hands in turn. "Well, it's nice to meet you all," he says with a smile.

Stiles' friends return the sentiment, and then Stiles jumps in before they can say anything else. "So you're the only person who's been here before," he says to Derek. "Do you have any recommendations?"

"The reuben is excellent," Derek suggests. "Not many places can make a good reuben."

Lydia smiles at that. "And you'd know," she says sagely. Stiles shoots her a warning look and returns his attention to his menu.

Derek raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. "They've also got good soups," he says. "Fresh ingredients, and they bake their bread fresh daily. Like Panera, but local."

"I think I'll try one of the soups," Danny decides. "What do you think, Stiles?"

"Soup sounds good," Stiles agrees. "Something light."

Danny beams at Stiles, and Derek feels a twinge of jealousy-- which he quickly throttles. It doesn't matter if Danny and Stiles had been involved in the past; it's none of his business. "I think I'm gonna try the turkey club this time," Derek decides, just as their waitress appears.

They all give their orders, and when the waitress has left Lydia takes it upon herself to engage Derek again. "Tell us about yourself," she says. "What brings you to New York?"

"My job," Derek answers, as honestly as he can. "I travel a lot for it, and for the foreseeable future, I'm in New York."

" _Interesting_ ," Erica says, leaning forward. "Y'know, you look kind of familiar..."

Derek shrugs one shoulder. "I've been told that a lot; apparently I just have one of those faces."

"I'm not sure that's it," Erica says thoughtfully, and Stiles kicks her under the table.

Derek doesn't miss her slight wince, and it makes him curious-- why would Stiles kick her?-- but he doesn't say anything. "What about you all?"

"Well, I'm a mechanic back home," Erica answers. "Scott got his degree and is now working as a vet, also back home. Danny is a hacker for the CIA--"

"No I'm not," Danny interrupts sharply, but he doesn't offer Derek a more accurate job description and Erica talks on, unperturbed.

"--and Lydia is our resident genius."

Lydia smiles, and unlike Danny does not protest. "I've just started my second MA," she tells Derek. "My first was in mathematics. This one will be in physics."

"Impressive," Derek says with a nod to Lydia.

Lydia's smile becomes a smirk. "Thank you."

* * *

Stiles is on tenterhooks for the rest of the afternoon, and not without good reason. Lydia and the others just _keep dropping hints_ , and Derek is definitely picking up what they're throwing down. It gets increasingly more difficult for Stiles to act oblivious, but he soldiers on regardless, determined that his own best friends will not be the reason for his relationship's downfall. It helps that Derek looks just as nervous as Stiles feels, as though he's afraid that Stiles will eventually get a clue and realise that his friends know something he doesn't, and although that makes Stiles feel even worse, Derek deflecting his own fair share of the hints and prompts and knowing looks draws his attention away from Stiles doing the same.

When they finally get away, it's only after promising to meet up with them again soon, and Stiles is practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline. They have to walk down the street a ways to get back to Stiles' car, and just as they're passing by a movie theatre Stiles spies a gaggle of teenage girls up ahead that are sure to recognise Derek if they get any closer. Stiles just _can't_ handle that right now. Without thinking, he reaches out and grabs Derek's arm. "You wanna see what's on?" he asks, gesturing to the theatre. "Maybe a nice rom-com that can take our minds off the thriller we just lived through."

Derek keeps his head tilted, trying not to let himself be recognized by the girls-- Stiles's friends had been bad enough. "Sure," he says, glancing at the listings, surprised when the name of his latest movie caught his eye. "Huh. I didn't realize _Wolf Moon_ was out yet."

Stiles' eyes widen. "Uh, yeah, I don't really want to see that, though."

Derek makes himself keep his voice light and curious as he asks, "Why not?"

Stiles chooses his words carefully, but for once he doesn't mince them. "There's this one guy in it who's a total asshole."

Derek blinks. "Why do you think he's an asshole?"

"Oh, he said a whole bunch of problematic stuff in an interview," Stiles says blithely. "I've never seen any of his other movies but I think I'm gonna boycott this one."

"Oh." Yeah, Derek has a feeling he knows which interview Stiles is talking about. "Well, anything look interesting?"

A glance behind them tells Stiles that the girls have passed, and he knows full well that the theatre will be full of posters sporting Derek's picture and name. "Nah," he says. "Let's just get takeout on the way home and watch some Netflix."

"Okay," Derek agrees, still a little hung up on the fact that apparently Stiles knows about that disastrous first-- and last-- interview with that particular magazine.

* * *

Stiles's friends unnerve Derek, but they don't manage to scare him off; he and Stiles still spend as much time together as they can, and honestly, the more time Derek spends with Stiles, the more he starts to think about things like _forever_. It's scaring him a little bit. Laura, of course, still doesn't like that Derek hasn't told Stiles who he is-- but Derek's also becoming increasingly convinced that Stiles already knows.

It's either that or Stiles is the most oblivious person on the face of the planet.

It takes nearly a month for things to get even more tense-- if that was even possible. Honestly, Derek feels like a stretched rubber band. But this stunt Laura is pulling is just about ready to make him snap: She's hosting a party. In his apartment. And she invited all of their friends. _And_ Stiles's.

Derek doesn't even know where she got their numbers from; he decides he doesn't actually want to know.

It's not all bad, though-- Boyd was immediately taken with Erica the moment the blonde stepped through the doorway, and they've been over by the bartop flirting all night long; Derek thinks Erica's sudden squeal of delight must have been from the revelation that Boyd is a stylist. Isaac was immediately taken with Scott-- and then with Allison, once Scott’s girlfriend had stepped into the apartment just behind him. The stuntman had made a beeline for them, swiping three drinks from a passing waiter(seriously, Laura spared no expense-- most likely because it was probably _his_ money she was spending. He didn't use it for much, but still; it was the principle of the thing.) as he went. Derek hadn't even bothered trying to keep track of them.

Stiles is the last to arrive, and Derek isn't fast enough to keep Laura from intercepting him before Derek can get there. "Oh, you're Stiles, right?" Laura asks, an expression of unholy glee covering her face. Derek redoubles his efforts to push through the small crowd.

Stiles' eyes widen, and his mouth works silently for a moment before he finally manages to find his tongue. "Laura," he says. "You're Laura."

"Yes I am," Laura says brightly, the picture of innocence.

"Don't listen to anything she has to say," Derek breaks in, finally having pushed through the crowd. "She's crazy."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Stiles says, grinning. He holds out his hand for Laura to shake. "It's great to meet you. Did you organise all of this?"

Laura sticks her tongue out at her brother, who rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes I did," she says proudly. "I borrowed some funding from my little brother, but I'm sure he doesn't mind."

"That's not the part I mind," Derek mutters under his breath, wincing as he catches sight of Erica and Boyd looking at him, Boyd's expression thoughtful and Erica's almost... predatory.

Stiles laughs. "It's all the people in your space, right?" he asks. "I knew you were a secret loner." He follows Derek's gaze and makes an interested noise. "Who's that guy with Erica?"

"That would be Boyd," Derek says. "Don't make fun of what he does."

"What does he do?" Stiles asks, frowning.

"He's a stylist."

"Huh." Stiles looks impressed, more than anything else. "Cool."

"Right, let me introduce you to some people who are actually interesting, unlike my brother," Laura announces, grabbing Stiles by the arm and dragging him off. Derek just shrugs helplessly when Stiles looks to him with wide eyes before disappearing into the crowd.

Stiles is forced to mingle for the next hour, and it's actually really fun. Derek's friends are really nice and none of them even try to blow his cover, so whether or not they know of Derek's secrecy they're more wisely chosen than Stiles' own. Speaking of Stiles' friends, though, for once they're too busy living their own lives to meddle in his. Erica certainly seems taken with Derek's stylist friend, Boyd, and Scott and Allison are equal parts flustered and flattered by the attention of a cute boy with curly hair whose name Stiles eventually learns is Isaac.

By the time Stiles finds himself back at Derek's side, he's had multiple glasses of a bright pink, fruity cocktail Laura won't tell him the name of and he's definitely not drunk, but he's merry. There's a flush high on his cheeks and he can't seem to stop smiling, and he's having _fun_. Derek doesn't seem to be enjoying himself quite so much, but he doesn't seem angry either, and Stiles winds an arm around his waist. "Dance with me?" he asks.

Derek takes in the sight of Stiles's flushed cheeks and grins. "Laura give you some of her cocktails?"

"You might do well to have one or two, yourself," Stiles teases. "Come and dance!"

Derek shakes his head. "I don't dance," he informs Stiles.

Stiles pouts. "Not even for me?"

Derek hesitates, glancing around-- these are all people he knows, and he trusts most of them (yes, even Laura)... "One dance," he decides.

Stiles positively beams. There's a sizeable group of people dancing near to the sound system, and he wastes no time in dragging Derek over to join them.

* * *

Derek and Stiles end up dancing together a couple more times through the night-- mostly because Stiles keeps accepting cocktails from Laura. Unfortunately, this leads to him becoming way too wasted to even _think_ about driving, which leaves Derek with one practical option: Stiles stays the night.

It's not like he's _against_ the idea; it's just that he would rather Stiles have stayed when he hadn't been drunk off of Derek's evil sister's evil drinks. Really, Derek has to practically peel the wasted grad student off of him, firmly reminding himself that he really shouldn't sleep with Stiles when the latter is this drunk. "Okay, Stiles, I'm serious-- you need to go the fuck to sleep; you've got class tomorrow, remember?"

"Who needs ass when I've got a hot hunk of class right here?" Stiles slurs. He's still trying to cling to Derek, but after a moment he reels back to correct himself. "Wait. That's not what I meant. I do need ass. Like, your ass. Or my ass. Or maybe just dicks I'm not feeling very co-- coronated. Cord... corduroy? Cordated." Derek finally succeeds in extracting himself from Stiles' hold and a gentle push is all Stiles needs to sit down on the bed with a soft _thump_. He grins up at Derek. "Very picky."

Derek can't help but shake his head fondly. "Go to sleep," he repeats. "I'll leave you some aspirin."

Stiles crawls into bed obediently before turning back to Derek with sad eyes. "You're not stayin'?"

Derek shakes his head. "I'm not the one drunk off my ass; I'll sleep on the couch."

Stiles pouts, but his head is heavy so he snuggles down in the bed and lies back against the pillow. "You're such a gennleman," he slurs, his eyes already closing. "M'so lucky."

Derek feels the corner of his mouth twitch. "Quit talking and go to sleep," he says again, voice fond as he leans in to press a quick kiss to Stiles's temple. "Trashcan's by the bed; try to hit it if you get sick."

Stiles smiles and rolls over with a sleepy noise. "Can't believe I bagged a _movie star_ ," he sighs, and it's the last thing he says before he falls asleep.

Derek freezes, one hand on the doorjamb, his gaze locked unseeing on the wall opposite him. _Did Stiles just say--_

Fuck. 

* * *

When Stiles wakes up the next day, his head is splitting. He groans as he rolls over and gropes for his phone on the nightstand; the glare of the screen hurts his eyes but it doesn't take him long to establish that it's past noon and he's missed his class. Not that he minds, but wasn't Derek saying last night that he had to get up for that class? So why didn't Derek wake him?

_Clang_.

Stiles jumps, and immediately regrets it when his head threatens to explode.

_Crash_.

"What the fuck?" Stiles whines, physically trying to hold his head together now. Is this what woke him? It sounds like someone's set up a construction site just down the hall. He struggles out of bed and, one hand still pressed firmly against his forehead, stumbles from the bedroom.

He doesn't know what he expected to find, but it certainly isn't this: a seriously pissed off Derek, not trying to clean up from the night before, but making even more mess. Stiles winces as a TV remote whizzes past him and _cracks_ into the wall; the back comes off and the batteries fall out, but Derek doesn't seem to care. Derek also doesn't seem to have noticed Stiles yet.

"Uhh, Derek?" Stiles whimpers from his hopefully safe position in the doorway. "What's going on?"

Derek whirls at the sound of Stiles's voice, and when he catches sight of the other man, he feels briefly guilty about making so much noise he woke Stiles up-- but then he remembers _why_ he's throwing shit, and the guilt disappears. "You _knew,_ " he snarls, hands clenched into fists at his side. "Did you know this whole fucking time?"

"Knew what?" Stiles asks, suddenly feeling cold all over. "Derek, I don't know what you're talking about."

"'Can't believe I bagged a movie star,'" Derek growls. "Remember that?"

 _No_ , Stiles thinks desperately, but he knows better than to tell Derek that. Instead, he lets himself sag in defeat. "Yes," he says. "I knew."

Derek snarls, wordless, and starts pacing; he doesn't look at Stiles. "Why didn't you say anything?" he demands. "Were you running some sort of long con or something?"

Stiles stares at him, aghast. "No!" he cries. "Do you seriously think so little of me?"

"I don't know _what_ to think," Derek spits. "Get out."

Stiles freezes. "Derek," he begs, "please don't do this. I can explain."

" _Get out,_ " Derek snarls, taking one step forward before he forces himself to stop. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, and don't come back."

Stiles doesn't want to leave, but the look in Derek's eyes tells him he doesn't have a choice. He stays just long enough to grab his shoes and his keys, and bolts.

* * *

It takes a week before Boyd and Laura get the story from Derek, and while Laura immediately goes into protective big sister mode, Boyd takes his time deciding what to do. In the end, he decides to talk to Erica-- and he finds out she already knows what's going on. They wait another week, but when neither of the idiots makes a move to contact each other, they decide to take action. 

As the only ones still in New York, Laura, Lydia, Isaac and Boyd meet up and start a Skype call with Erica, Scott and Allison. "We need to do something," Laura decides. "Derek's miserable; I've had to make excuses with the studio he's been recording at about him being sick."

"And Stiles hasn't left his apartment except to go to class," Scott says. "He's been talking to his dad but not to anyone else."

Lydia sighs. "They're both so pathetic it's embarrassing."

"Derek thinks Stiles led him on," Boyd says. "Isaac and I have tried to talk him out of it, but..."

"He doesn't trust people easily," Isaac finishes. "Honestly, I'm not saying Stiles is the only one to blame-- they both fucked up-- but we need to get them to fess up to their mistakes before we'll get anywhere with them."

"It isn't for us to play the blame game," Scott agrees. "This is something they need to work out on their own."

"But if they won't talk to each other willingly, what are we supposed to do?" Erica asks.

"I'm all for locking them in a closet together," Laura suggests. "Mom did that to us all the time and didn't let us out until we made up."

"That would still require getting them in the same place at the same time," Erica points out.

Laura frowns, thinking. "That will be difficult," she murmurs-- then her eyes light up. "Derek recently received a request to model at the local university-- the same one Stiles attends, if I'm not mistaken. I can bully him into going, and if we can get them in the same building..."

Scott grins. "That's brilliant."

"I'll make him do the modeling first-- it's for an art class, sketching or painting, something like that. I can shove him in a supply closet somewhere," Laura says, grinning. 

"Then you bring Stiles," Boyd says, nodding. "This might work."

Scott grimaces. "When is this supposed to go down?" he asks.

"I can get this scheduled for a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday morning," Laura answers. "The class meets at ten, runs for two hours, and then at least thirty minutes most likely for autographs and the other various junk that comes with being a movie star."

"Sooner rather than later would be better," Scott says. "Lydia, could you handle Stiles?"

* * *

Stiles is coming out of class the following Monday, keeping his head down and his gaze on the floor lest one of his peers try to approach him, when he sees them. A pair of brightly coloured shoes with heels so high and thin that the balls of his feet ache in sympathy just looking at them, standing right in his path. He knows who they belong to before he looks up. "Lydia," he says tiredly, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. "Don't normally see you on this side of campus. Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Like missing one class is going to matter-- the professor is terrified of me, anyway. Come on, I have something to show you."

"I don't have time for this," Stiles complains, but he follows Lydia anyway. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Lydia says imperiously. "Now hush up and keep up."

Stiles does as he's told, though he isn't happy about it. When Lydia draws to a halt in the middle of a deserted corridor, however, he can't keep his mouth shut. "What are we doing here?" he asks, just as two other people appear from around a corner. "Laura? Boyd? What's going on?"

"We're here to help," Laura says soothingly right before she and Boyd each grab an arm and drag Stiles towards a door Lydia's opened-- they shove him in, and the lock clicks behind them. 

Derek sighs. "I figured you were going to be the one they threw in with me."

Stiles can't really say anything to that, largely because the sight of Derek has stolen his breath. They just stand there for a long moment, during which Derek refuses to look at Stiles, and eventually he can't stand the silence anymore. "How long have you been in here?" he asks.

Derek glances at his watch. "About twenty minutes."

Stiles sighs. "What are you even doing on campus?" he asks, a spark of hope flaring to life deep in his gut as he speaks. Could Derek have come here looking for him?

Derek quickly squashes that hope. "Laura roped me into doing a modeling gig for one of the art classes," he answers, staring fixedly at the shelf of cleaning supplies. "Only reason I agreed was because I've apparently yet to learn that _my sister is a dick!_ " This is last part is yelled in the direction of the door.

"Still not letting you out!"

Stiles looks at the floor, his heart sinking. "We can probably wait them out," he says quietly. "Even if we have to spend the night in here, they'll have to go home sometime, and someone will find us."

Derek sighs. "If Laura got anything from Mom, it's her tenacity. There's no waiting them out; trust me, I've tried."

Stiles hums. "Well, then I guess you'll have to talk to me."

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" Derek says dryly. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You've been ignoring my calls," he says.

"I thought I made it pretty clear I didn't want to hear from you," Derek snaps. "You fucking led me on."

"I didn't mean to," Stiles tells him, just managing not to flinch from the sharpness of Derek's tone. "That wasn't my intention at all."

"Then what was your intention?" Derek demands angrily. 

"To get to know you!" Stiles cries. "Is that so awful? I don't care that you're a celebrity, Derek, and you were nice and I liked you and I didn't want you to start acting like an _asshole_ once you find out I knew who you were. Which, way to prove me right!"

"I wouldn't have reacted so badly if you hadn't made me fucking fall for you!" Derek yells-- then realizes exactly what he just said. Shit. 

Stiles will swear for the rest of his days that his heart actually stops beating for a second. "You-- Really?"

Derek glares at the floor. "You heard me," he mumbles petulantly. 

Stiles dares to take a step forward. "Derek, look at me," he begs. Derek huffs, but complies, and Stiles wets his lips, suddenly nervous. "I feel the same way."

Derek's gaze snaps to Stiles's, breath caught in his throat. "You--" He swallows, hard. "I swear to God, Stiles, if you're fucking with me..."

"I'm not," Stiles promises. "Okay, I lied about knowing who you were after that lunch with my friends, but only because it had gone too far by then and I didn't know what else to do. But everything else has been real. I've never lied to you about what I feel for you."

Derek hesitates, searching Stiles's expression for a hint of a lie. "You're really telling the truth?"

"I went into this wanting to get to know _you_ , the real you, Derek Hale the man as opposed to Derek Hale the movie star," Stiles tells him earnestly. "Because they are different people, Derek, you have to admit that. And what I saw in you, it was incredible. What we had was incredible. I didn't want to taint that by telling you that I knew the truth. I don't care that you're this crazy-successful, crazy-rich actor, Derek. It's not the fame and the money that I'm in love with."

"Then why didn't you say anything before then?" Derek asks a bit desperately. 

"I was scared," Stiles admits. "I never expected to get in this deep. I-- I kind of thought you were an asshole. And then things were going great, and you didn't say anything either, so I figured you didn't want me to know. You're not out, so maybe you thought it would be easier to keep me a secret if I didn't know all the details. What if you sent me away to keep me from slipping up in front of the wrong people and destroying your career?"

Derek shakes his head emphatically. "I don't care that much about my career," he tells Stiles. "It's nice, and I enjoy it, but it's not the most important thing to me." He hesitates, then adds, rather shyly, "Not like you or my family."

Stiles dares to reach out and take Derek's hand. "I'm so sorry," he says sincerely. "For lying to you, and for hurting you. I love you."

Derek let's himself smile for the first time since he kicked Stiles out of his apartment. "I love you, too," he confesses softly. 

Stiles gives Derek a relieved little smile of his own, and takes another step towards him. "I'm going to kiss you now, if that's okay." Derek nods, licking his lips; Stiles slides the fingers of his free hand into Derek's hair and brings their mouths together for a soft, tender kiss.

* * *

Outside the supply closet, Lydia, Laura, and Boyd exchange satisfied looks, and Lydia unlocks the door before they leave the reunited couple in peace.

* * *

Stiles pulls away only once he hears the lock click, and he gives Derek a big smile. "Just for the record," he says lightly, "I think movie-star you is _incredible_."

"What about what you said outside the theater?" Derek asks, frowning slightly.

"Oh, I still think you're a jerk," Stiles tells him. "But you're a very talented jerk."

Derek sighs. "That article was written by Kate Argent; while she was interviewing me, she acted... very inappropriate. I turned her down when she came on to me after it was over, and that article was the result."

Stiles' eyes widen. "So you _didn't_ call your non-hetero fanbase a bunch of creepy weirdos?"

Derek shakes his head. "I said I didn't understand people who only watched something for shipping, but that was their choice and I respected that," he explains. "I never said anything about calling them weird or anything like that."

"Oh," Stiles says. "That actually explains a lot."

Derek shrugs. "We didn't bother fighting the magazine that printed the argument; it would have just caused more problems than it solved. I've tried to be as respectful as I can towards the fans so that the article would hopefully hold less water."

"A lot of the fans are still on your side," Stiles tells him. "But the internet and tumblr especially is a really toxic environment, so there are also a lot of people who hate your guts." He hesitates. "I wasn't really going to boycott your movie, by the way."

Derek offers him a smile. "I wouldn't have minded either way."

Stiles smiles back. "I know," he says.

* * *

Derek and Stiles take a week or so to settle back into being together - but eventually, reality comes crashing back in in the form of an invitation to a red carpet event. Derek gets Laura, Stiles, and Braeden together at his apartment to discuss what to do next.

"I'm thinking of coming out as bisexual," Derek says after everyone's had a chance to read the invitation.

Braeden looks up sharply. "Are you sure that's wise? I've told you countless times that this could ruin your career."

"Will it really, though?" Laura asks. "Or will it just get the fans he lost after that _ridiculous_ article back on side? He can hardly hate his LGBT fans if he's one of them."

"Statistics show that celebrities who come out after years of a strong, steady career--"

"Do just fine. All of your _statistics_ are from like twenty years ago! A lot has changed since then." Laura rounds on Stiles. "What do you think? You were his fan before anything else - how do you think the public will react?"

Stiles flushes. "I-- Well, it's really nothing to do with me," he mumbles.

"It kind of is," Derek disagrees, voice apologetic. "When I come out, it will most likely affect you, too-- especially since, if you want to, then we'll do everything we can to keep you away from the press, but something just about always leaks."

"I can handle that," Stiles says softly. "I just, I don't want you to feel like I bullied you into this. It has to be your decision."

Derek shakes his head. "You haven't; I was considering this anyway-- but now I have a reason to want to come out, on my terms."

"Is he really worth it?" Braeden asks bluntly.

"Yes," Derek answers immediately, voice firm. "He's more than worth it."

Braeden sighs. "Fine," she says. "How do you want to go about this?"

"That depends on if Stiles wants to go public right away or not," Derek says, looking to the man in question.

Stiles smiles. "Whatever you want to do, I'll support you," he says. "But... maybe my dad shouldn't find out from a headline?"

"Of course," Derek agrees. "We can tell him before we do anything else. I was thinking of maybe taking you to this premier? There's not a lot of time for questions, and we have more control here than a lot of other places."

Stiles blinks. "You-- Are you sure?"

"It's just an idea," Derek answers, "but I'd rather do things where we have as much control as possible. And from personal experience, I can tell you that you don't really get that in most interviews."

Stiles nods. "We can do that," he says.

Laura nods as Derek smiles shyly at Stiles. "Then I'll arrange to have Stiles included as your plus one," she says, already pulling out her phone.

"And I'll be on standby just in case things go tits up," Braeden adds. "But for what it's worth, I'm glad you two are happy together."

Stiles isn't ashamed to admit that he's more than a little relieved; Braeden scares the shit out of him. "Thank you," he says.

* * *

The premier is in two weeks' time, so Stiles and Derek fly out to California that weekend. Stiles' dad offered to pick them up at the airport, but Stiles doesn't want to subject him to the paparazzi that will start to swarm as soon as Derek gets off the plane. They go their separate ways at the gate so that Stiles can avoid the attention and manage to meet up somewhere relatively quiet, and someone may have snapped a photo of Stiles getting into the car Laura hired for them but he doesn't care. Let them speculate for a week; they'll have all the answers they could ever want in due course.

Sheriff Stilinski is waiting for them when they pull up in front of the house, and he comes outside to give Stiles a hug as soon as he gets out of the car. "Did you get a cab all the way from the airport?" he demands. "I told you I'd pick you up."

"Uh, that's not a cab, Dad," Stiles says awkwardly. "Listen, there's someone I want you to--"

The sheriff's jaw drops, and Stiles knows without looking that Derek just got out of the car.

Derek usually does his own stunts, but part of him wants nothing more than a stunt double to meet Sheriff Stilinski for him. Seeing as there's none available, however, he sucks it up and makes his way up the sidewalk to stand next to Stiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says honestly, offering the sheriff a polite smile. 

The sheriff spends a good few seconds just staring at Derek, before he finally finds his voice. "You-- You're Derek Hale," he stammers, rounding on Stiles. " _This_ is who you wanted me to meet?"

"Surprise?" Stiles hedges weakly.

"God, I-- I know you asked me to take those posters in your room down, but I had _no_ idea. You could've warned me we'd be having a movie star in our house!" He seems to remember himself then, enough to straighten up and offer Derek his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My son has told me all about you - although, apparently, not nearly enough."

Derek watches the exchange with no little amusement-- and he is _so_ asking about the posters-- and he offers the sheriff a grin. "Stiles has told me a lot about you, too-- and I am sorry for the secrecy, but we only just really got things fully sorted out between us, and thought it'd be better if you heard it from us in person."

The sheriff sighs. "I guess you'd better come inside, before the neighbours' curtains start twitching."

Stiles grins. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

Derek gets his stuff unpacked in the guest room; they touched down in Beacon Hills around 4:30 so by the time he's done, it's going on 6:30. When Derek ventures downstairs, he finds Stiles and his dad sitting in the living room-- both of them looking suspiciously like they'd been talking about him only moments before. 

"Hey," Stiles says with a warm smile, patting the seat next to him. "Dinner's almost ready, if you're hungry."

"Jet lag always make me hungry," Derek says, taking the indicated seat. "What're we having?"

"Chilli," the sheriff supplies, cutting his gaze to Stiles. "And before you ask, no, it is not vegetarian."

"Dad!"

"I am not feeding your boyfriend rabbit food the first night he spends under my roof," the sheriff says firmly. "I've kept to your goddamn meal plans while you've been away; I'm allowed a night off, Stiles."

Derek can't help but grin. "Every diet needs a cheat day," he reasons. "I would've gone insane if I hadn't been allowed some."

Stiles' eyes narrow. "You're not supposed to be on his side."

Derek raises his hands placatingly. "I can relate to suffering under strict diets," he says, a fond glint in his eyes. "And the reasons behind them."

"Oh, so you have a dodgy heart too?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "No-- but I have a workout regime just as strenuous as anything a police officer might do. Minus the stress of the situations, of course. But it's still enough for me to sympathize."

Stiles sighs. "Whatever," he says. "You can have tonight off, Dad. But that's it."

The sheriff gives Derek a grateful smile. "That's very kind of you, son."

"Don't push your luck."

* * *

Of course, just because Derek managed to get Stiles to back off about a non-vegetarian chili doesn't mean the sheriff's about to go easy on him. As soon as everyone is served, the elder Stilinski starts in on the questions. "So, how long have you two been seeing each other?" he asks lightly.

"Um. Well, we met... a few months ago?" Derek glances at Stiles. "I can't remember the exact date; it was shortly after I busted my knee on set, though."

Stiles smiles. "He was too stubborn to let me look at it, even though he was obviously in pain," he says. "So I had to win him over, of course."

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. "Of course," he says slowly. "Derek, as I understand it you're not out yet. Is that going to change?"

Derek nods. "That's why we came here," he explains. "Stiles and I are going to attend a premiere next week, and come out then. But we both agreed you shouldn't hear it from the news."

The sheriff nods. "And have you considered how this will affect Stiles?"

"Dad..."

"I know what your answer will be," the sheriff says, "but that's why I'm asking Derek. You may think you're prepared to be mobbed by the media every waking moment, but only Derek knows what that's really like. So, Derek, what if Stiles can't handle it?"

"If he can't handle it, then we'll discuss it and decide what to do," Derek said simply. "I've told him what it's like, but that doesn't really get across how grating it can be. If Stiles decides he can't handle it, then we'll try to work something else out. And if that doesn't work... If that doesn't work, and he decides he wants out of this life entirely, then that would be his decision and I'd respect that."

"You'd let him go?" the sheriff asked, watching Derek closely.

"If it came down to it, yes."

The sheriff nods. "I believe you."

* * *

Time flies, and it seems like they blink and suddenly it's the day of the premiere. The whole day is spent making sure they didn't forget anything, that Laura has everything arranged and that they make it to the hotel on time-- luckily Beacon Hills isn't too far from where the premiere is being held. Then it's finally time to head to the premiere, and Derek finds himself just as nervous as he'd been at his first premiere. "God, I can't believe this is happening."

"You've still got time to back out," Stiles says earnestly, squeezing Derek's hand. "If you're not ready. It doesn't matter to me."

"I'm ready," Derek reassures Stiles. "I just never thought that I'd meet someone worth this." He gives Stiles a smile and a kiss. 

Stiles beams. "I'll be right with you the whole time," he promises. "If it gets too much we can get the hell out of there."

Derek offers Stiles a grateful smile; the car pulls to a stop, and Derek takes a deep breath. "Ready?" he asks; outside of the car, there are already plenty of lights flashing and people yelling.

Stiles sighs. "As I'll ever be."

Derek squeezes Stiles's hand reassuringly, then opens the door.

"Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale!"

As soon as Derek is out of the car, he's blinded by cameras and deafened by the clamour of reporters and fans alike.

"Mr. Hale! Over here, Mr. Hale!"

"Who are you wearing tonight, Mr. Hale?"

"Mr. Hale! Will there be a lovely lady on your arm tonight?"

"Mr. Hale!"

When Stiles gets out of the car, still holding Derek's hand, a momentary hush falls over the crowd. Then everything gets ten times louder.

"Mr. Hale! _Mr. Hale_!"

" _Over here_! Mr. Hale!"

"Oh my god," Stiles murmurs, but he's the only one who hears it.

Derek gives Stiles a reassuring smile before choosing a reporter he's worked with before. "Good evening," he greets. "I'd like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Stiles."

"Your _boyfriend_?" the reporter asks, while the rest of the crowd goes absolutely wild. "Are you saying that you're gay, Mr. Hale?"

"No," Derek answers firmly. "I'm bisexual."

That takes the reporter aback. "Bisexual," she repeats. "That has to be something you've kept from us for a while. Why are you telling us now?"

Derek holds up his and Stiles's joined hands. "I've always been bisexual, but it never explicitly came up until now. But I want to share my life with Stiles, and I'm not going to hide him."

The reporter turns her hungry gaze on Stiles, who swallows hard. "How long have you been seeing Mr. Hale, Stiles?"

"Uhh, a little while now," Stiles hedges, looking at Derek.

"Well it must be serious, if he's coming out for you."

"It's pretty serious, yeah," Stiles allows. "I love him."

"And how will you feel if this gesture has a negative impact upon his career?"

"I love Stiles more than I love my career," Derek says simply. "If people stop watching my movies because of who I love, then that's their problem, not mine."

The reporter smiles. "One more question, Mr. Hale," she says. "In a recent interview you made some comments of a homophobic nature, in relation to your fans in particular. Was this an attempt to cover up your own sexuality, or do you really feel that way?"

"That particular quote was a twist of what I said," Derek answers calmly. "The reporter handling that interview acted in an unprofessional manner and when I confronted her about it she chose to retaliate by attempting to slander my name. What I said and what she printed were two very different things; I had said that while I didn't understand why some people would watch a show or movie purely because of a potential relationship between two characters, I respected them."

"So you _don't_ have anything against fans that are part of the LGBT community?"

"No, and I never have. It would be hypocritical of me, considering I've known that I'm bisexual since high school," Derek answers dryly. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hale," the reporter says, beaming. "I hope you enjoy the evening - and congratulations."

* * *

Derek manages to get them inside with only a few more questions-- less time than he usually spends on the carpet, but he feels like he'll be forgiven for that just this once. Once they’re in the relatively quiet building, Derek turns to Stiles. "So. How was that for your first time on the red carpet?"

"Not awful," Stiles says reasonably. "I only tripped once, and I'm optimistic enough to hope that that _won't_ be the photo most of the tabloids go with." He smiles, and gives Derek's hand a squeeze; neither of them have let go since before they got out of the car. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Derek reassures Stiles. "Trust me, it could have gone so much worse."

"I had nightmares about how much worse that could have gone," Stiles admits quietly. "I'm really glad they were all so nice about it."

"We are living more than a decade into the twenty-first century," Derek reasons with a smile on his face. 

Stiles smiles back. "I know," he says, "but Braeden filled my head with horror stories. I'm allowed to worry about you."

"I love Braeden, but she does tend to think mostly of the worst case scenario."

"That is at least partly what you pay her for, though," Stiles points out. His gaze wanders beyond Derek's shoulder for a second. "We should probably find a seat."

"We should," Derek agrees, wrapping an arm around Stiles's waist. "Come on."

* * *

Things continue to go well; there are, of course, those people who absolutely can't stand that Derek has taken a partner the same gender he is, but far fewer than Braeden or even slightly-more-optimistic Laura predicted. Derek still acts, still makes movies with the occasional TV episode thrown in, and he and Stiles stay together. 

That's not to say their relationship is completely smooth sailing-- they argue and they even have a few full-blown fights that end with one of them walking out, a few hours-days of no communication, and eventually they make up and resolve the fight. Both of them want this relationship to work, so they make it work. They make it work so well, in fact, that almost four years after Stiles's first red carpet premiere, he's joined Derek for an interview on _Ellen._ Stiles is actually just off-camera, and Derek had been wondering why until Ellen leans forward and asks, "So, there have been quite a few rumors floating around about you two-- but the one I think everyone is most curious about is the one that says you two are planning on getting married. Is that true?"

And Derek-- who has finally found the perfect ring, has it in his jacket pocket right now, as a matter of fact-- figures it's safe to joke, "Darn it, Ellen, you've ruined the surprise!"

Stiles, naturally, is outraged. " _Your_ surprise?" he demands as he storms onto the set. "Derek Hale, do not tell me you're here to steal my moment."

Derek blinks. "Well, I was planning on waiting until tonight, but--" He makes to reach into his pocket, but is stopped by Stiles smacking his hand away. 

"Don't you dare!" Stiles snaps. He sinks down onto one knee in front of Derek, still holding his hand, and the whole world melts away. "Now, you shut the hell up and you listen to me," he says, voice soft. "We've come so far since I took it upon myself to harass you about your knee on the subway. We've fought like cats and dogs with each other, but we've also fought _for_ each other. I know you still worry that this life, _your_ life, is too much for me - but that's why I decided to do this here. Sure, the bright lights and the cameras and the death threats on Twitter can be a bit scary sometimes, but when you're with me, there's no one else in the room." He reaches into his jacket pocket with his free hand, and lets go of Derek only to open the small black box he finds there. "Derek Hale, I will never stop fighting for you, and I will never stop loving you. So, will you marry me?"

Derek's not ashamed to admit he's a little teary by the time Stiles officially pops the question. He reaches into his own pocket, pulling out and opening the little box there. "Only if you'll marry me," he says with a smile. 

Stiles doesn't even bother with the rings; he just surges to his feet and into Derek's lap so that he can crash their mouths together. All around them, the studio _erupts_.


End file.
